Forgetfulness
by Aletto
Summary: For most people life progresses naturally, linearly forward through a procession of days, months and years. For someone else - at some point - it simply and abruptly ends. But for Gilderoy Lockhart it was neither of those: for him, life and time had irremediably, utterly stuck.


_Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter and his world, lovely J. K. Rowling does._

 _Written for the Percy Jackson Character Challenge – prompt: Chris Rodriguez (write about Gilderoy Lockhart in St. Mungos)_

* * *

He was happy. Or, at least, he thought he was. Was he?

Sitting on the comfy velvet puff near the window, Gilderoy Lockhart scrunched his handsome features in the effort to focus his mind: keeping a thought for more than a few minutes was so difficult, so infuriatingly straining.. like trying to collect some water with a bucket drilled with a thousand holes, it was –

"Mr. Lockhart?" The female voice of a healer shook him from his reverie "how are you feeling today?"

His face relaxed, the irritation suddenly forgotten, as it had never been there in the first place.

"I.. I think I'm fine, thank you" he slowly articulated, discovering that his voice was raspy from disuse. How long has it been since the last time he had talked? Once again, he couldn't remember despite all his best efforts.

"Not to be nosy, but you looked quite upset just moments ago.." she pressed, smiling. Despite the odd situation, Gilderoy found himself smiling back at the woman in lime-green robes; she had quite the contagious smile, he thought.

But, nevertheless, the question had puzzled him: had he _really_ been upset? If that was so, then _why_ couldn't he remember any of it?

But the woman – well, _girl_ was more accurate, now that he gave her a better look – she seemed genuinely concerned. And if she was concerned, then it must've been true and he had forgotten all about it..

"I did, didn't I? I was just thinking about… about.. _something_ , I guess, but.." Too late he was suddenly aware of his crass mistake "hmm.. please don't get me wrong, dear, but.. who exactly are you and what are you doing in my room?"

He couldn't almost believe his stupidity: how came that he hadn't asked her, not until now? Stupid, _stupid_ Gilderoy. You are _so_ naïve.. Remember lesson number one? Never talk to strangers, never trust them at all – he mentally scolded himself.

But not all the people in the world were bad, there were well intentioned folks too. For instance, she.. she could've been a fan of his, couldn't she? She most definitely _looked_ like one of his many admirers: so young, so pretty.. and he could've sworn that right now she was looking at him with adoring eyes: his admirers always looked at him like that, how could they not?

He liked when his fans came to visit him, he absolutely _loved_ signing pictures for them, receiving all those nice compliments..

Yes, admirers were strangers but of the good kind. If there was someone he was sure he could trust, that was his fan-club: they would never _ever_ try to hurt him, not like –

"I'm Lily. Lily Luna, sir. Do you remember me? I'm your healer here at St. Mungo's" she replied, once again scattering his thoughts in the wind.

"Lily.. Lily Luna.. mmh" he barely acknowledged the rest of the sentence and focuses on playing with those two words, rolling them around his tongue as if they had been his favourite brand of candy "Lily Luna.."

There was something appealing about that name, something catchy and odd that pocked at some remote part of his brain: she had said something about they knowing each other.. could it actually be true?

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the fog that loomed over every thought he'd ever had. Fog..

Fog..

Yes, yes, inside his head there was so much fog..

It was just like the Scottish fog that covered the green hills. The thick, gray Scottish kind of fog that blankets grounds and rocks, forests and castles -

no, not castles. Just one, _one_ castle - his unconscious corrected. He could almost see the image of it flashing inside his head: a black, looming castle whose high towers only managed to rise above that swirling sea of gray mist, just like the blackened fingers of a hidden skeletal hand.

That castle.. there was something peculiar about it, Gilderoy could definitely tell: it frightened and amused him at the same time.

In some primitive, ancestral way, he knew he would be able to draw the map of its room with his eyes closed and yet.. yet if he tried to focus on its details - the sloping roof, the faint outline of a bridge in the distance - they seemed to elude him, wriggling out of his mental grasp like -

Out of the corner of his eye, the sudden movement of a bird perching on the windowsill caught his attention for the briefest moment, but it was enough: his meticulously and painfully constructed train of thoughts evaporated into the thin air.

Gilderoy squinted, trying to refocus: he was fairly sure he had been thinking about something, only second before, but for the life of Merlin he couldn't fathom what it was.

"I'm afraid my memory is failing me right now, dear, because I can't really recall your face.. Are you positive that we've been introduced for real and it wasn't just some kind of fantasy of yours? There's no need to be ashamed, you know, I've been informed that it's quite a frequent delusion in my admirers and, after all, I'm sure I would've remembered such a peculiar surname.. Luna.. It has a ringing, something Italian maybe?"

"Oh no, no, sir" the young woman shook her head, chuckling "as a matter of fact, they are both my names. Potter, _that_ is the surname"

"Potter?"

Lockhart felt as if suddenly stricken by a very powerful stinging hex. He tore his eyes away from the treetops he had been staring through his thick, hermetically sealed windowpane – then again, _when_ in Merlin's name had he even started looking outside that damned window and lost interest in his interlocutor? – and turned around to focus as much as he could on the witch in his room.

He looked at her with renewed suspect: that name..

Potter..

Potter..

Potter..

There was something about it that tugged an emotionally painful thread inside his brain: he felt something stirring and slithering inside his skull, trying to resurface from the dark abyss of forgetfulness where it had been kept; something that had been hiding from him, waiting for this very moment.

He grimaced: his head.. it suddenly felt as if it was about to split into halves.

Dread pervaded him: he didn't want to know what that thread was pulling, he didn't want to unleash the creature that he _knew_ to live inside his head. He didn't want to change a thing, he liked the way it was now, it was so calm, so –

As sudden as it had arisen, the blinding, irrational fear that had been chocking him was gone: his mind returning once again blissfully blank and empty, he slouched a little bit on his seat relaxing the shoulders that he hadn't even known to have tensed in the first place.

He scratched his head, momentarily confused by that quiet sense of peace inside his head that somehow clashed with the situation he currently found himself in: in fact, he was rather sure that he and the girl standing right in front of him had been having some kind of conversation going on, and yet he just couldn't remember about what.

"You must forgive me, my dear, I got lost in my own thoughts.. what were you saying?" As an apology, he flashed her his most dazzling smile. His admirers _loved_ those smiles. He had barely spoken those words that a light flashed inside his mind, bringing back a fragment of memory.

"Oh, yes, sure! Your name! Lily.. Lily.. hmm"

"Lily Luna, sir" she prompted.

"Of course, of course! Lily Luna.. how could I forget such a lovely name?" he asked more to himself, springing up from his puff and reaching for the drawers of his little, cluttered desk. "But enough chatter: you came for one of my signed picture, didn't you? I should have a stack of photos somewhere around here.. with so many admirers coming to see me, you know, one must always be ready and fully equipped!"

The girl smiled sweetly, nodding, as he started rummaging through the drawers.

But try as he may, Gilderoy couldn't find the pictures he was looking for – any of them, as a matter of fact – and that, _that_ upset him to no end: that lovely, lovely girl had gone the distance to see him and now he couldn't even give her a memorabilia. How rude was that? Utterly unforgivable!

Out of frustration, he tore the whole drawer from the desk, deliberately scattering its scarce content on the floor.

No pictures there, not a single one, not even the smallest scrap of parchment. Nothing! NOTHING, for Merlin's sake! He could feel his hands shaking in anger.

"Mr. Lockhart, sir?

The voice brought him back to reality; the tremor that had been shaking him quickly vanished and he suddenly felt aware of his surroundings: the drawer thrown askew at the furthest end of the room, its content spilled all over the floor like some kind of peculiar carpet. How had it even happened? He mused.

"I'm terribly, terribly sorry, my dear girl, but it would seem that my secretary had yet again forgotten to replenish my stack of pictures.. and this mess.. this mess!"

He was looking in true shock at the scattered stationery: broken quills, metal clips, an old copy of his _'travels with trolls',_ chipped pencils, flourishing peacock feathers now irremediably ruined and a small bottle of ink that had cracked, deep red ink now oozing out of it like blood from an injury. How could his secretary have overlooked such a mess? How was he expected to receive his visitors and admirers in such a cluttered ambience?

"Oh, just wait until I see her.." He muttered, pushing the offending garbage with his foot, right under the desk, and leaving an angry red smear of ink behind. He couldn't bother himself to collect that mess, it wasn't his job, was it? "I'll give her a piece of my mind, yessir. That woman, I swear on Merlin, one day she'll make me go mad.."

"Until you see who, Mr. Lockhart?"

He looked at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world "but Lily, of course! My secretary"

"Your secretary is called Lily?" She pressed.

"Yes, yes, that's what I just told you, isn't it? Her name is Lily, Lily Luna, yes.."

The girl in lime-green robes softly sighed "Mr. Lockhart, _I_ am Lily Luna, remember? I told you only moments ago"

Lockhart looked at her, puzzled: that couldn't be right, it simply wasn't possible.. his secretary was Lily. No one else.

"You… are you my secretary?" He tentatively guessed.

"No, Mr. Lockhart, I'm not. I'm your healer"

"Healer? I Don't understand.. what are you talking about? I.. I don't have a healer, I most definitely don't _need_ one or whatsoever" he felt panic rise inside his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs. What was that all about? Was it some kind of practical joke? He was fine, he _felt_ fine. "I'm not sick, I'm.. I'm – "

He was hyperventilating, his heart beating like a battle drum inside his ears, washing away all the sounds. He was about to die, he was certain. So young, so young! He was going to have an heart attack, he –

Something soft was touching his arm. He looked down and saw the slim hand of the girl, firmly grasping his forearm: the girl was saying something, he could see her mouth moving but he couldn't hear the words over that terrible drumming noise inside his head.

"Mr. Lockhart.. Mr. Lockhart.. Take a deep breath. Mr. Lockhart, can you hear me? Breathe with me"

Somehow that soft voice managed to get through to him, calming, soothing.

His breathing soon became less erratic and his heartbeat slowed down, freeing his head of the awful noise. A few moments later, there was only blissful silence.

"You had a panic attack. How are you feeling now?" The young girl asked.

Gilderoy blinked a few times, considering the hand that was still grasping his own arm. What was it doing there?

"I.. I think I'm fine, but.. who are you, dear?"

The girl let go of his arm "can you tell me what's your name?"

The thought that she had evaded his question lasted less than a second in Gilderoy's mind, soon swept away under the rug of forgetfulness.

"I am Gilderoy Lockhart" he replied with a dazzling smile, puffing his chest out: no woman could resist it, he knew that. The girl in front of him seemed to make no exception, as she sweetly smiled back at him. She was smitten, he could tell.

"Very well, Mr. Lockhart. And can you tell me where you are, now?"

Gilderoy was slightly taken aback from the strange question. Of course he knew where he was, why did she bother asking? He was… he was…

As a matter of fact, Gilderoy found that he wasn't entirely sure of the answer. But he couldn't tell her, could he? No, no, it would've been so _unbecoming_ of him.

He quickly looked around, inspecting the ambience: it was a rather spacious room, with cream coloured walls, a big window overlooking a luscious park, a comfy-looking bed covered in a blue quilt, no mirrors on the wall but a few framed pictures of smiling people, a small wooden desk and.. well, a real mess of ink and papers on the floor, as if someone had tried to sweep it under the desk to hide it. _Ridiculous_.

If he considered all those elements, the final answer was rather logica and simple: "We are at the Black Hippogriff Inn, in Diagon Alley, of course. I usually have a room reserved here whenever I have a book presentation planned at Flourish and Blotts"

The smile seemed to slip just a little from the girl's mouth, but she quickly recovered "and.. what day is today?"

Lockhart looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Why was this staff girl making all those strange questions?

"I don't know why you're firing these question and why should I answer them, Miss… I didn't get your name?"

"I told you, Mr. Lockhart, you just experienced a mild panic attack, I'm merely making sure that you're alright"

"Well, if that's the case then.. it's the 19th of August, 1992" he confidently stated "I'm really grateful for your concern, but as I've already told you and now you can clearly see it too, I am perfectly fine. Now, if you don't mind, I have people waiting for me for a book-signing session and.."

"Of course, of course, Mr. Lockhart" she held her hands up in surrender "I don't want to keep you, sir. Have a nice day!"

"Oh, miss?" He called, stopping her mid-track as she was turning around. At her puzzled expression he barely replied quirking an elegant eyebrow and looking down at the now huge red stain on his carpet. Sure she didn't mean him to clean it by himself?

For a fraction of second he could swear that he had seen the ghost of a scowl on her lovely face, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone and in the blink of an eye she had taken care of the offending stain with a practiced flick of her wand.

"That was lovely, thank you! And.. can you please do me one more favour?"

The girl halted again, one hand already on the door handle, and turned around with a sigh.

Now that he looked at her better, sure she had the strangest outfit he had ever seen for a maid, Gilderoy thought: he couldn't recall the Black Hippogriff having those lime-green robes for its staff, and yet it suited her incredibly well, balancing the fierce red of her hair and bringing out the sparkling hazel of the eyes..

"Yes?" She asked, looking curiously at him. Had he been staring? He must have been staring and she caught him. Merlin almighty, how embarrassing!

"Ehm, yes.. could you please fetch me my secretary, Miss Luna? She assured me she would've been here on time, but.. I guess she had forgotten; you see, she's such a _lovely_ woman but she's a real disaster when it comes to remembering appointments.."

"Yeah, tell me about it.." the girl muttered "but.. sure! I think I've seen her down the hallway, I'll send her in right away, Mr. Lockhart" she replied, giving a crooked smile and a nod as she opened the door and got out.

Lockhart turned around, sighing satisfied and quickly wiping that funny, ridiculously rude maid out of his mind.

To his utmost delight, he had found that the room furnishing included a velvet puff that looked extremely comfortable and strategically placed right next to the big window.

That little thing alone made him extremely happy: as a matter of fact, in his quite extensive experience of hotels' rooms he had found out that only chairs or armchairs could be find in the bedrooms, never a puff; so, having now one in his very own bedroom, could only mean that the inn's direction had known of his love for that specific piece of furniture, and had been so kind to provide him one. To personalise his room.

Wasn't that lovely? It made him feel _so_ special.

But, then again, he _was_ special.. it was only consequential that common people showed him their love, wasn't it?

He decided that later in the day he would sign some photos as a thank you to the direction. It was the least he could do and they would most certainly love them.. yes, that was a good plan.

Sinking with a happy sigh in the soft cushion, the rest of the world already forgotten, Gilderoy gazed at the treetops outside his window: Merlin, he was really, really happy.

* * *

 _ **Medical record n. 5746 tau 132/93**_

 _ **Patient**_ _: Gilderoy Lockhart_

 ** _Janus Thickey Ward_**

 _ **First admitted:**_ _June 1993_

 _ **Diagnosis**_ _ **(6/1993 – Healer Miranda Sebowsky): Severe memory loss due to altered memory charm.**_ _The patient seems unable to recall facts happened before the incident, nor he seems able to retain new facts or information for more than a few minutes. He has no recollection of himself or of people around him. Shows signs of motor impairment, probably due to the magic shock though further exams are required_

 _ **Further additions**_ _:_

 _ **(5/1994 – healer Miranda Sebowsky)**_ _the patient has started suffering of nightmares that prevents him to sleep at all; for this reason it has been started a long-term treatment with sleeping draught. Long and short term memories are still unrecovered. Signs of improvement are starting to show with motor coordination and skills._

 _ **(11/1994 – Healer in training Simon Lowell)**_ _due to the suspension of the sleeping draught treatment, the patient had shown symptoms of a withdrawal syndrome – including irritability, burst of anger, insomnia and increase of appetite – yet the nightmares seem to have completely disappeared. The outburst are currently under treatment with calming draught._ _Long term memory loss has shown signs of improvement, the patient now being able to recognise himself now most of the times._

 _ **(12/1995 – Healer Miranda Sebowsky)**_ _the patient shows signs of a slight improvement of the long term memory: he's regained partial conscience of himself and had developed a slight fixation with signing his own pictures. He still can't recall anything about the incident or pretty much anything else about the past._ _Motor coordination and skills are back to normal._ _Short term memory is still highly impaired, more so under stressing condition or if he's interrupted during his activities or thoughts._

 _ **(4/1996 – healer Marcus Benson)**_ _the patient shows no signs of improvement either of the short term memory or the long one. If anything, he seems to have developed a memory block which prevents him to progress in time further than August 1992. Examinations have shown no signs brain swelling or mass that could explain the symptoms, neither of magic-induced time block. The logical conclusion is that the block is of psychological nature._

 _ **(6/2025 – Healer in training Lily Luna Potter)**_ _the patient still shows no signs of memory recovery, except for small fragments of the long term ones that seem to be triggered by specific words or people. Despite the anti-psychotic potions, he's still firmly convinced of being in year 1992. Requested psychiatric evaluation to confirm the suspect of a possible magic-induced dementia in his fore- and temporal lobe._

 _ **(4/2027 – healer Lily Luna Potter)**_ _the patient sports clear signs of dementia: other than the memory problems and time disorientation, he has shown outburst of destructive rage and deep mood fluctuation; furthermore, he has developed space disorientation and a fixation for my name – which probably acts as a trigger for suppressed memories – and for my person, which he now envision as his personal secretary. Requested another psychiatric assessment to evaluate the modification of the therapy._


End file.
